


Meet Me at Stardusk

by MarieQuiteContrarie (SeaStar1330), TrueRumbelle



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Festivals, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Magical Realism, Meteor, Romance, Rumbelle - Freeform, Rumbelle Fluffapolooza, Rumbelle for the Win, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-12
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-19 14:50:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5970952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaStar1330/pseuds/MarieQuiteContrarie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/TrueRumbelle/pseuds/TrueRumbelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Each August, Storybrooke holds the Sky Fire Festival—a 5-day fair in honor of the Perseids Meteor Shower where only one couple finds True Love. Pragmatic, shy Darach Gold doesn’t want to go. He's already missed his chance at True Love--some people are just meant to be alone. Bookish, romantic Belle French can't wait for her first festival and arranges to meet with Gold each night so neither of them will be alone. But what starts out as keeping each other company soon grows into something more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. On My Own

**Author's Note:**

> True Rumbelle (Rumples-Leather-Emporium on Tumblr) and I have decided to give co-writing a try! 
> 
> This story is written in honor of Fluffapolooza 2016 - Happy Birthday Rumbelle and Skin Deep! It's also our Valentine's Day entry for the Rumbelle For The Win Challenge. Prompt: Rumbelle, red, heart, rose.

**NIGHT ONE: 6:00 p.m.  
**

For Darach Gold, the annual Sky Fire Festival was a joyless occasion.

It was a reminder of his bleak, empty love life and his embarrassing romance with the only woman who had ever cared for him. Milah had tossed him away like yesterday’s trash. Not that he could blame her. The man she’d left him for was taller, younger, and far more handsome.

 _Nonsense._ He could almost hear Jefferson scolding him, saying that his relationship with Milah hadn’t been real love and that she had been the loser—not the other way around. But that’s what best friends did—lied to spare your feelings, even when you were at your worst.

Darach dragged his feet around the shop floor, dreaming up excuses to forgo the festivities this year. He could invent an illness, dally over a work project, or pretend a pipe had burst at home. He scowled. Gold hated to lie, but Jefferson was just so damn pushy. He was always trying to talk him into some event, party, or outing. The Sky Fire Festival was no different.

Year after year it was the same argument. Darach refused to go and Jefferson began to whine, wheedle, and plead. Eventually Darach would give into Jefferson’s good intentions, swallowing past the lump in his throat and the horrible, hollow knowledge that at the end of the five days he would go home—alone—just as he always did, year after year.

Much as he loathed the festival, Darach still found himself standing outside his shop waiting for Jefferson and his family. The only pleasant part of the whole affair would be spending the evening with Grace, his honorary niece and Jefferson and Alice’s daughter. He treated his favorite 8-year-old to everything from ice cream dates to trust funds. And since he had no children of his own, her parents graciously allowed him this privilege.

Jefferson and his family came into view, and Darach couldn’t resist the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Despite himself, he gave a welcoming wave. He loved Jefferson and Alice dearly. He just wished they were a little less persistent.

“Uncle Darach!” Grace shouted as she ran, embracing Darach so tightly he almost fell. Darach was prepared for the onslaught; he’d rather get knocked to the ground than miss a moment of Grace’s affection.

“Thank goodness, Gracie. I was worried your father had once again lost track of time, but I see you and your mother are keeping him on schedule.” Darach smirked at Grace as he teased his friend. Jefferson was forever running late. “Remember that time I waited ages for you to arrive but it wasn’t until the next year that I actually saw you?”

Opening his mouth in mock offense, Jefferson pretended to be appalled. “I’ll have you know that I’m never late; you are merely impatient. And that time you’re referring to was New Year’s Eve, so don’t try and convince anyone that you waited for more than ten minutes. The very next year indeed.” Jefferson muttered the last words under his breath but Gold heard him and grinned, elbowing him in the ribs.

Alice clucked her tongue at both men as the four began walking to the festival, setting a relaxed pace. “Don’t let him fool you, Darach. I practically had to drag Jefferson out the door with no pants he was so behind.” She kissed Darach’s cheek and enveloped him in a warm hug, then pulled back to look him in the eyes. “We’ve missed having you over for Thursday dinners. Grace most of all. I think it’s high time you stop hiding in that big house of yours and enjoy the company of your friends; get out and be with people.”

Darach felt his stomach twist in discomfort. Alice and Jefferson had been trying for ages to increase his social connections. Why couldn’t they understand that he was fine, happy even, living on his own?

“Oh, don’t look so stricken,” Jefferson said. “Alice and I just want you happy.”

“And me too!” Grace shouted, skipping closer to him.

Laughing at the enthusiasm in her little heart-shaped face, Darach squeezed Grace’s hand. “What your parents don’t understand is that spoiling you and seeing that big, beautiful smile is all I need to be happy,” he said in an exaggerated whisper.

“Yeah, yeah. Keep being the favorite, Darach. You’ll be the one dealing with her at 16 when she expects her first car to be a Corvette.” Alice took Grace’s other hand and they all laughed at the joke. “Come on, sweetie. You’ll have Uncle Darach all to yourself tomorrow night. Let your dad and him spend some time together.” Alice and Grace quickened their pace, entering the fairgrounds.

Darach quirked a dark eyebrow in Jefferson’s direction. “Not very subtle, Hatter,” he said, using the nickname that referenced the tall, elegant top hats his best friend favored. “Are you and Alice all out of clever turns of phrase? Usually when you twist my arm to do something I have no interest in, you’re not so painfully obvious.”

“As though subtlety actually worked on you! Hitting you over on the head with a giant sign that says 'I’m going to have fun this year' might work, however.” Jefferson snorted. “Maybe this year will surprise us all. You could meet someone special.”

Darach shook his head. “I like my life as it is. It’s quiet and fulfilling, and I don’t need to meet anyone. Some people are just meant to be alone.” He regretted the words as soon as he’d said them, already too familiar with the well-worn path this conversation was heading down.

“Not you, my friend. A man who has given so much to help others in this town? No one even knows who they are beholden to. Darach, you’re too fine a man for the fates not to reward you with blessings.”

Gold continued as if he hadn’t heard Jefferson, grumbling as he looked at his own feet. “I met Milah on the final night of the festival and thought it was love. The next August she met Jones on the first evening and we were over. You yammer on and on about True Love and the magic of the festival.” He waved a dismissive hand. “It’s all bunk and you know it.”

“That was years ago. And Milah wasn’t the one for you. You said yourself you felt relief when it ended.” Jefferson stopped walking and stood in front of Gold, blocking his way. “You know what the real problem is, don’t you? You _want_ to believe in true love. You know all these other couples who found true love at the festival—Milah and Jones, Leroy and Astrid, Alice and me. So you thought you met yours and when you discovered you were wrong, you decided true love can’t be recognized.”

“Because it can’t be,” Gold barked. “If I was meant to have love, it would have happened by now.” He had the sudden urge to yank the sleek red cravat at Jefferson’s neck.

“Not if the greatest of all loves is being saved for you.” Jefferson’s voice was quiet, as gentle as the breeze rustling through the trees. “And how could it not be? Just look at that face!” Trying to lighten the somber mood, Jefferson grinned and pinched Darach’s cheek hard, like an overzealous relative.

Darach swatted Jefferson’s hand away and rubbed his offended cheek. “Come on, _Grandpa_. Let’s not keep Alice and Grace waiting.”

“Wait.” Jefferson laid a hand on his arm. “Don’t act like you have a date with the executioner, hmm? Just…humor me, old man. If it’s a terrible evening, I won’t make you come back…” He trailed off.

“What?” He sighed. “There’s a catch, isn’t there? There always is with you.”

“No catch.” Jefferson held up his hands in surrender. “Although you did say you would take Gracie for us tomorrow night so Alice and I can be alone. And I know you are a man of your word.”

“That was a low blow, Hatter.” Gold poked him with the butt of his cane. “You know I can deny Grace nothing. Besides, someone around here has to keep her in cotton candy and stuffed animals. Things that boring, responsible parents don’t allow. But I won’t make any promises about the rest of the festival.”

“Fair enough,” Jefferson said, snickering.

Hastening his steps to catch up to the ladies, Darach lifted his head to the darkening, moonless sky. Tonight and tomorrow _._ He only had to survive two nights. Besides, tomorrow Grace would be a welcome distraction from all the other happy couples and love-seeking hopefuls.

His gut clenched; hope was his greatest fear. He didn’t want to believe that love was still possible. It was so much easier to accept the inevitable—he was better off alone.

* * *

Isabella French loaded another stack of favorites onto the growing mountain of books. Chewing her painted thumbnail, she scanned her selections, brow furrowed in concentration. Yes, something was definitely missing. But what? Aha! Determination in her step, she approached the bookshop’s small astronomy section, choosing just a few books highlighting planets, constellations, and stars in honor of the occasion. Satisfied, she scribbled the titles down on her checklist and smiled.

Tonight began Storybrooke’s annual Sky Fire Festival.

The festival featured five glorious evenings of stargazing. Belle was eager to attend her first celebration—she’d heard snippets and stories about it for practically the entire year since she’d moved from Australia to Maine last September. Every August 9-13, neighbors gathered from all over town to watch the famed Perseids Meteor Showers. Besides the beauty of the skies, there were wonderful activities to engage festival goers of all ages—food carts, crafts, games, and booths for businesses to sell goods and services.

And Belle wasn’t just getting to go—she was going to be in the center of the activity by helping to run a booth for the bookshop with her friends Mary Margaret, Emma, and Aurora. Belle loved belonging, and preparing for this event made her feel all lit up inside. She had meaningful work, she had friendship, she had community. Maybe one day she would even find love.

Belle blushed. As famous as the Sky Fire Festival was for its glorious meteors, it was known for something even more rare, precious, and beautiful than falling stars: True Love. So the story went, each year one couple—and only one couple—would meet and fall in love during the festival. If it was True Love, on one of the five nights of the celebration a special, magical occurrence would take place, confirming for one fortunate pair that they had found the one they were born to love.

Some scoffed at the idea, shaking the story off as a myth; nothing more than a legend for dewy eyed romantics and lovers of fairy tales and galaxies far, far away. But Belle knew real people it had happened for. Real people who had met their other half at the festival and gone on to blissful marriages and raising families. Starry-eyed, she sighed. _Perhaps someday…_

“Hey, Belle!”

With a tiny shriek of surprise, Belle tossed the book and the clipboard she’d been holding in the air, sending both items clattering to the ground.

“Woolgathering again, I see,” said Emma, raking back her long blonde hair with her red-rimmed sunglasses. She leaned against the book cart and stuck her thumbs in the pockets of her jeans. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to startle you, but it’s already dusk and we’re running late.”

“No, that’s all right.” Belle shook her head and bent down to pick up the dropped items. “I’m ready to go. I was just collecting these last few books for the festival.”

“And dreaming of True Love?” Emma asked with a cheeky smile. She handed Belle the ballpoint pen that had rolled under the book cart.

“I—no—uh—maybe.” Belle blushed again, feeling bashful and selfish. She had only just moved to town. Others had been in Storybrooke their whole lives, yearning for that moment when True Love came calling. At last she ventured, “It would be nice to meet someone.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” said Emma, reading her thoughts. Her friend shrugged. “It’s what most people want, whether or not they’re willing to admit it. I’ve been in Storybrooke for six years—longer than some, but for less time than most. I’m still hoping to find the one.”

“I know you will, Emma,” Belle said, patting her arm with affection. “You deserve to be happy.”

“Thanks, Belle.” The blonde winked. “So do you. Now let’s get the last of these books loaded into my bug. We’ve got a festival to get to!”

Once at the fairgrounds, Emma parked the car behind the book stand. Aurora and Mary Margaret had almost finished setting up, and together the four ladies added the finishing touches to the attractively stacked books. Practically skipping to the front of the stand, Belle positioned the astronomy books she had chosen in the center of the display. Perfect.

She looked around, savoring the sights and sounds of the celebration. The warm, summer air was charged with anticipation as crowds of townspeople trickled in and began visiting booths, ordering hot dogs and popcorn, and spreading fluffy blankets on the sand to watch the meteor showers. Damp with exertion and excitement, she wiped her palms on her skirt, which was decorated with red rosebuds.

“Belle, why don’t you go explore?” Mary Margaret said, interrupting her gawking. “You’ve been standing there staring with your mouth hanging open for at least 10 minutes.”

“Oh! I’m sorry,” Belle said, clapping her hands on her flushed cheeks. She glanced apologetically at each one of her friends, but all of their faces were wreathed in bright smiles. “I forgot what I was doing. It’s all so breathtaking!”

“Go on.” Aurora encouraged her to leave with a gentle push. “Shoo!”

“But I’m supposed to be helping,” Belle said, shaking her head. “And we’ve just begun.”

“The festival is five nights long, Belle,” Emma said. “There is plenty of time for you to work. Tomorrow evening you can have the booth all to yourself while Mary Margaret and Aurora snog their True Loves under the stars. Me? Graham has asked me to divide my time between the booth and patrolling the grounds.” She patted the holster hidden beneath her shirt. “Not that we’re expecting any disturbances, but the assistant sheriff always has to be on guard.”

Belle nodded her understanding but hesitated. She longed to stroll around and taste all the wonders of the festival, but she didn’t want to rush off and leave her friends to do all the heavy lifting. “Are you sure?”

“Positive!” All three of them chorused in agreement, reminding Belle of a tiny yet mighty cheerleading squad.

“Well, all right then.” She beamed at her friends and ambled down a gravel-lined path. When she and Emma had driven in, she’d noticed an exhibit celebrating the history of the town. Could there be a better place to start?

Belle’s inner geek glowed with pleasure as she paged through old photo books and read about the town co-founders Henry Mills and George Nolan. Mary Margaret’s parents and grandparents were also lauded as Storybrooke pioneers, and Sheriff Graham Humbert was featured as one of the town’s modern heroes, as was Doctor Victor Whale.

She ran her hands along the creased photos and worn plaques. Now here was something fascinating: _Storybrooke’s Mystery Hero._ The town had an anonymous benefactor. Someone who bankrolled the schools, orphanage, and community center whenever a problem surface or additional funding was needed. Belle remembered hearing about a family who had lost everything in a fire, only to miraculously be gifted with a brand new, fully furnished home. For weeks they asked the donor to come forward, but no one ever did. Clearly this person didn’t want to be recognized for his or her services, which only fueled Belle’s interest. She loved a good mystery.

Lost in her learning, she was suddenly jostled by a throng of revelers walking behind her. Thrown back slightly, she bumped into someone. “Ooof!” Belle grunted as the breath left her body and an electric current crackled up her spine. People passed by her on all sides and Belle shivered.

She’d run into plenty of people in her 28 years, but it had never felt anything like _that._ The sensation was totally foreign and…exhilarating. Like she’d been running for miles, yet had the stamina to go on forever. Inhaling deeply to calm her pounding pulse and racing heart, Belle turned around to apologize.

No one was there.

Whomever she had touched had vanished into the crowd. Trying to catch up, she craned her neck and ducked around families and between couples, hoping for a flash of recognition.

But it was too late. Arriving at the edge of the beach, she peered into the sky just as a long, slow, brilliantly hued star traversed the heavens. The earthgrazer skimmed across the horizon like a stone skipping across the surface of a pond.

Belle shivered anew as she followed the rare, colorful meteor. She had a peculiar feeling that something magical was about to happen.

 

_Up Next: While Darach squires Grace around the festival, he meets Belle French at the book booth._


	2. Books and Ice Cream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reeling over a strange encounter from the night before, Gold gives Jefferson and Alice the opportunity for a date night and squires Grace around the festival. While at the book booth, they meet Belle French.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Sky Fire Festival continues and Gold and Belle finally meet. Enjoy!

**NIGHT TWO: 6:00 p.m.**  
  
The second evening of the Sky Fire Festival was a scorcher.

Undeterred by the unseasonable warmth, Darach whistled as he walked toward the fairgrounds, enjoying the rhythmic thump of his cane on the asphalt.

Tonight he had his favorite 8-year-old all to himself, and the sticky weather made it a perfect evening for some low key games, ice cream, and lemonade on the beach.

He was looking forward to the festival. That was odd in itself. However, it also felt promising. But it was more than the anticipation of Grace’s company that had put a spring in his step.

Last night, he’d been en route to the apple dumpling stand when he was caught in a crush of people heading toward the Ferris wheel. He’d collided with someone back-to-back. Instantly, he’d felt a current race up his spine and explode through his limbs, rendering him both energized and breathless. It was as though he’d swum the English Channel but was now prepared to dive into the Atlantic Ocean. Never in his 45 years had he felt a sensation quite like it. He had looked around to see who he’d crashed into, but the person had already melted into the moving mass of people.

Since then he’d felt an unexpected combination of hope and expectancy. That strange collision was on his mind when he’d gone to bed last evening and when he’d woken this morning. Now, as he drew closer to the activities, hearing the hum and whir of rides and games and the laughter of children, the memory once more rushed to the forefront of his brain. He shook his head as if to clear it. Darach Gold was no dreamer. He was a practical man, and what had happened—whatever it was—was meaningless.

He needed to snap out of it. Astute as he was, Jefferson would notice his wistful demeanor and the interrogation would begin.

Schooling his features into a benign expression, he arrived at dusk to find Grace and her parents peering into the sky. Jefferson made a sweeping motion and three sets of eyes followed the line of his long, elegant fingers.

“Hatter, wishing on a star will not improve your hairstyle,” Darach said, referencing the lanky man’s riot of dirty brown curls that added about 3 inches to Jefferson’s already considerable height. With tonight’s humidity, the mop had swelled to epic proportions. “You know, there are professionals you can seek out.” Gold smirked over Alice’s shoulder as he hugged first her and then Grace.

Jefferson squinted. “Are you still talking about my hair?”

“Probably not.” Darach gave a wry smile.

“You’re in a good mood tonight.” Jefferson narrowed his eyes again and stroked his chin.

Grace tugged on Darach’s arm, saving him from needing to respond. “Uncle Darach, guess what Daddy saw last night!” She didn’t wait for an answer as she pointed toward the stars. “He saw a worldgazer. He said it means something wonderful is going to happen at the festival.”

“ _Earthgrazer,_ Gracie.” Jefferson chuckled as he corrected his daughter. “It’s a long, slow, colorful shooting star that appears early in the evening. Did you see it last night, old man? It’s a good omen.”

Darach gave his friend a fond smile. Jefferson was a devoted romantic. He hoisted Grace onto his hip and she wrapped her small hands around his neck. “I missed it!” he said. “Maybe there will be another. Gracie, I like your word. _Worldgazer_. It makes sense. That kind of star flies close to the earth and we can gaze at it for a long time before it disappears. And your dad’s absolutely right—something wonderful _is_ going to happen. You’re going to win that giant stuffed bear we spotted at the balloon game yesterday.”

“Yay!” she cried, choking him with the intensity of her hug.

“You two go along now,” Gold instructed Alice and Jefferson. “Enjoy your date and leave Grace and me to our mischief.”

“Alice, I believe we’ve been dismissed,” said Jefferson, wrapping his arm around his wife. He nodded at Gold. “We’ll meet you on the beach at 9’o’clock. Text me if anything changes.”

Alice kissed the top of Grace’s head and smoothed her light brown braids. “Watch your uncle, honey. Make sure he doesn’t cause too much trouble.”

“Ha!” Jefferson hooted as they strolled away. “Gracie’s gonna have her hands full!”

Arm-in-arm, they disappeared around the bend, and Darach gave Grace a conspiratorial wink. “Good, they’re gone. Let’s go play games and fill up on fried food and ice cream. Point me toward the corndog stand.”

For the next two hours, they alternated between visiting snack booths and playing games. Between mouthfuls of a soft pretzel dripping with mustard, Grace pleaded with Darach to help her win a goldfish. Darach knew that fair fish didn’t fare well. Instead, he offered to take her to the pet shop tomorrow for some healthy fish and a tank, as long as her parents gave the go-ahead.

At last they arrived at the balloon game with the giant plush bear prize. Darach paid for both of them to play and throw darts at the board to try to pop the balloons. Several games later, Grace and Gold steered their dart toward a small red balloon and popped it, winning the prize. Gold motioned toward one of the humongous stuffed bears, but Grace had other ideas.

“Uncle Darach, what’s that?” Grace stretched her arms towards a lone animal hanging in the mix of the giant bears. “The one that looks like a unicorn fish with the heart on its fin?”

Snickering at her description, Darach nodded. “It’s called a Narwhal. It’s a type of whale. And you’re right, Grace, it’s called the unicorn of the sea.”

“I want it!” Squealing, Grace clapped her hands and jumped up and down with glee.

“What about the bear?” Darach asked as the game attendant retrieved the Narwhal.

“But this one’s so cute and all alone. There’s nothing else like it!” Grace accepted the giant creature and cuddled it close.

“True. Too many bears and not enough Narwhals. You’ll be the talk of all your friends for giving him a home.” Darach pinned Grace with a serious look. “Have you chosen a name? If it’s Madam Narwhal, I don’t want to offend her by calling her a ‘him.’”

“That’s her name, Uncle Darach. How did you guess? She loves you already.” Grace nuzzled Darach’s cheek with the mystical whale.

“Well Madam Narwhal and Miss Grace, why don’t we get some ice cream?” Darach took hold of Madam Narwhal’s fin as Grace held the other, and together they balanced the huge, stuffed whale.

Ice cream cones in hand, they were soon walking along the path towards the booths selling wares and crafts. Madam Narwhal was safely ensconced in Darach’s arms while Grace enjoyed her treat.

Grace pinched Darach’s sleeve and pulled him toward a book stand he hadn’t noticed last tonight. “Uncle Darach, can we go look at the books? Madam Narwhal needs me to read to her tonight so she’s not frightened.”

“I think she’s very happy you’re taking such good care of her.” Darach finished his ice cream and cast a sidelong glance at Grace’s sloppy cone. She seemed content, but the humid evening air was melting the confection quickly.

A lone woman worked the booth, assisting another customer while he and Grace perused the children’s books. Grace exclaimed over a hard cover book bearing the silhouette of a badger, mole, rat, and toad. It was a lovely copy of _The Wind in the Willows_ and it looked expensive. Gold was just about to offer to hold the ice cream when Grace grabbed for the book. _Splat!_ Her melting ice cream fell from her cone, dribbling across the opened pages.

Grace let out a startled cry and met Darach’s eyes. “I ruined it!” Bursting into sobs, she rubbed her eyes and howled. Shoving the Narwhal between his knees, Darach reached into his pocket for napkins. He began dabbing at the book’s pages, trying to wipe away the pink ice cream before the gooey candies sticking to the delicate pages worsened the mess.

“It’s all right, darling.” He soothed Grace as he mopped up the spill, but it seemed to be getting worse. “We can fix this.”

* * *

Belle studied the little red hearts on her painted fingernails and heaved a sigh.

She was surrounded by happy couples—people kissing, holding hands, and staring into each other’s eyes. No, it wasn’t Valentine’s Day, but love perfumed the air like the scent of Meadow Rue.

Belle had been so excited about the Sky Fire Festival, but so far it was a bit of a disappointment. Expectations. They were her own worst enemy. Occupied by their own True Loves or obligations, none of her friends had found time for her these last couple of days. Emma was working tonight and had a date tomorrow; David and Mary Margaret were enjoying a picnic on the beach; and Aurora and Mulan had decided to drive down the coast.

Leroy and Astrid Kline, who had met at the festival five years earlier, strolled by and waved.

She dared not desert her post—that wouldn’t be right—but not many people were interested in looking at books. She supposed it was only natural; they were at a meteor festival and would rather gaze at the stars than at pages.

After finishing with her only customer of the evening, she returned to _Anna Karenina._ The meteors were beautiful, but after a while watching them solo became a lonely pastime.

Her halfhearted reading was interrupted by cries of dismay. Belle snapped her head up. The sounds was coming from the opposite corner of the booth.

A bewildered gentleman was trying to comfort a sobbing little girl with one hand while swiping a fistful of napkins across a book with the other. Clamped between his knees was a giant stuffed whale with a horn on its head, as well as a gold-tipped cane.

It was a comical scene, and Belle would have laughed if the child wasn’t wailing in despair and the man didn’t look so forlorn as he stroked her shaking shoulders. He finally dropped the dirty, crumpled napkins, the cane, and the stuffed animal in the gravel to crouch down and wrap his arms around the little girl.

“Is everything all right?” Belle asked, crossing the booth. “How can I help?”

Still patting the child’s back he gave her a helpless look. “My niece dropped her ice cream on this valuable copy of _The Wind in the Willows_. I’ve tried to clean it, but I’m afraid it’s beyond repair.”

“You know your books, sir.” Belle shivered as his low, melodic brogue rolled over her in waves. Was his accent Scottish? For some reason she felt relieved to know that the little girl was not his daughter.

He was dressed in dark jeans and a very fine, very thin white linen shirt rolled up to the elbows that accentuated lean, tanned forearms. His shoulder length brown hair was slightly grey at the temples. It framed an angular face with high cheekbones; intelligent, almond-shaped eyes the color of warmed whiskey, and a long, strong nose. His well-formed lips were thin and perfect, and Belle fought the urge to brush a finger across his mouth to see if they were as soft as they looked.

“Miss?” He cleared his throat.

She startled at the sound of his voice, blushing. “I’m sorry?”

He looked at her expectantly, awaiting a response. Oh my God, he’d been talking to her. Carrying on a one-sided conversation while she’d been looking him over like a piece of meat. And in front of a child no less.

“No, I’m the one who’s sorry,” he said. “I was just saying I will pay for the book, plus extra for your trouble.” He looked contrite, as did the little girl whose face was still wet with tears.

“That’s not necessary.” She smiled at the pair and then bent low to talk to Grace. “It was an accident, wasn’t it sweetheart?”

The little one nodded and gave a pathetic sniffle. Belle guessed her to be around age 7 or 8.

“Dry your tears now,” Belle cooed, offering her a handkerchief embroidered with tiny pink hearts. “My name’s Belle. What’s yours?”

“Grace,” she said as her chin wobbled. She mopping her own face and then returned the sodden scrap of cloth.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Grace. Who’s your friend?” She shifted her gaze briefly to Grace’s companion. Belle felt a pang of guilt for asking this sweet little girl to be a buffer, but she really wanted to meet this intriguing man without looking like a fool. All evening she’d been pining for someone to talk to, someone to get to know. She couldn’t explain it, but she wanted, needed to know him.

“This is Uncle Darach,” Grace answered with solemn pride. “Everyone calls him Mr. Gold. Except me, ‘cause he’s my uncle. He buys me presents and ice cream and takes me places.”  

“Mr. Gold. He sounds wonderful,” Belle murmured, fastening her eyes on his handsome face. He colored and they both looked away, a bubble of tension forming between them.

“Oh, and he’s not married,” the child volunteered.

Belle looked at Gold again. He was beet red. Fingers shaking, Belle scrambled to change the subject. “Hey!” Belle noticed Grace’s sleeveless dress and beamed, motioning towards her own. “Look at this, Grace. We’re both wearing red sundresses. I guess that makes us twins! I’ve always wanted to be a twin and now I am, thanks to you.”

At last the child cracked a smile and looked down, fingering the skirt of her eyelet dress. She spun around, a playful twirl that caused her skirt to billow and flare. She was enchanting, and Gold and Belle burst into peals of laughter.

“My turn now?” Belle asked.

Grace bobbed her head up and down in encouragement. Giggling, Belle stepped out from behind the booth and turned in a circle of her own. Then she grasped Grace’s hands and they twirled around together until they were both laughing and dizzy.

“Here,” Belle said to Grace, reaching under the booth for her handbag. “Since we both like to read, I have a little gift for you. Close your eyes and hold out your hand, please. No peeking.”

Grace did as she was asked, and Belle placed a small silver hair comb on her palm, closing her fingers around the treasure. “All right, you may open your eyes now.”

The child gasped in delight at the comb. “It’s a book! A book I can wear in my hair! But wait. How did you know I liked to read?”

“You chose to come here to the book booth, didn’t you? And you picked one of my absolute favorites. Now you must promise me to take very good care of that book, Grace. Can you do that?”

“Yes, Miss Belle. Thank you!” Grace wrapped her arms around her waist and squeezed tight. Belle felt like the sun had burst inside her soul. There was nothing quite like the innocent embrace of a child.

Suddenly self-conscious and shy, Belle chanced another peek at Gold from beneath lowered lashes. His expressive eyes had darkened to the color of molten chocolate and his knuckles were white as they gripped the head of his cane.

She shimmied back behind the booth, wondering what he was thinking. Hopefully he wasn’t angry with her. Was he?

Gold pointed toward a cluster of trees about 10 yards away. “Grace, why don’t you take Madam Narwhal and your new book and go read to her for a few minutes? Over there where I can still see you. I’ll be along soon. Right after I talk to Miss Belle.”

“Ok.” Grace nodded. “Are you going to talk about adult stuff?”

“Perhaps.”

“Are you going to kiss?”

“No!” he said. “That is, ah, Miss Belle and I just met.”

Smothering a grin behind her hand, Belle watched Gold give Grace a gentle nudge in the direction of the maple copse. He was flummoxed by his precocious niece and Belle found it absolutely adorable. Then he bent down to whisper something in Grace’s ear, presenting Belle with his perfect backside. Round and perfect and delectable. Belle’s mouth went dry as she watched those muscles clench and pull.

Grace scampered away, clutching her book and her Narwhal, the little silver book-shaped comb nestled in her hair.

Gold cleared his throat and rose, turning to face her. Cheeks flaming from studying his amazing rear end, Belle pretended extreme interest in a blob of melted cotton candy ice cream on the surface of the table. She smoothed her damp palms over her skirt, preparing for the worst.

“Thank you for what you did for Grace,” he said, pulling his wallet out of his pocket. He handed her several crisp bills for the ruined book. “For the comb, for being so kind to her. She has a sensitive spirit. But the book is too much. You must allow me to pay for it.”

“Please put your money away,” Belle said, some of the tension draining out of her. He wasn’t angry after all. “It’s only a signed copy, not a first edition.” Feeling jovial, she winked.

He laughed. “So you like books?” He cocked his head, an almost impish look of interest on his face.

“What makes you say that?” Belle teased, glancing around at the piles surrounded her on all sides. “Yes, books are my passion. When I’m not reading, I’m talking about books, selling books, or thinking about which book I’m going to add to my collection.”

“I like books as well,” he said, flipping through the pages of a hand-illustrated edition of _The Secret Garden._ “In fact, I’ve just received a dozen antique books at my shop. Perhaps you would care to come in tomorrow and take a look at them? Maybe you will find something you want to offer at the booth. If they sell, I’ll split the profits with you.”

Belle beamed, thrilled with the prospect. “You would do that?”

“Of course,” he said. “In fact, I insist. You must allow me to do something for you in exchange for your kindness toward Grace.”

“That’s very generous of you, Mr. Gold. I would love to come to your shop and see your books.” She started stacking books into bins, preparing to close down the booth for the night.

“Call me Darach, please.”

“Darach.” She tested the name on her tongue, savoring the richness of it. “What a distinguished name.”

“Let me help you,” he said, shifting a table to slide into the booth beside her. He began depositing books into bins as well. “When we’re finished here, shall we collect Grace and take a stroll down to the beach?”

Belle’s cheeks ached from smiling. Grace’s minor mishap had led to a chance encounter she wouldn’t soon forget. This was the happiest she had felt in a long time. “I would like that,” she said.

###

_Up Next: Gold and Belle make a deal to spend the festival together._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comment and suggestions are appreciated. :-)


	3. Making a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darach fights a growing attraction to Belle, who's already falling head-over-heels but doesn't want to be too obvious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been reading and reviewing this story. We appreciate your support and love to hear what you think!

**NIGHT TWO: 8:30 p.m.**   
  


“Shall we collect Grace and stroll to the beach? It’s quite a lovely sight to watch the Perseids reflecting on the water,” Darach said to Belle.

He crooked his elbow, offering it to her. Whatever possessed him to issue such an invitation? He wasn’t sure where this sudden desire to spend time with Belle came from, but he wanted to talk to her a little while longer. What harm could come from a short walk to the beach chaperoned by a precocious 8-year-old?

Beaming, Belle linked her left arm through his and rested the other on his bicep. The gentle pressure of her touch was both soothing and electrifying. “There’s nothing I’d like more than to enjoy a stroll with you…and Grace, of course. Thank you again for helping me to shutter the book booth for the evening,” she said.

“It was my pleasure.” He noticed the haste in which she blurted Grace’s name. _Was she grateful for Grace’s presence, a buffer to keep the dirty old man from hitting on her?_ Not that he had any intention of being so forward. Darach felt his cheeks grow hot. Belle had thanked him at least a dozen times as they’d worked together to store the books and close the booth. Never had a woman paid him so much attention. Surely she wasn’t just enduring his company. _Was she blushing, too?_ Damn, it was too dark to see her lovely cheeks.

They approached the tree where Grace had been reading _The Wind in the Willows_ with Madam Narwhal, and Darach averted his eyes. The child was staring at him, the expression on her face far too perceptive for his comfort.

“What are you thinking about, Uncle Darach? You look weird.”

From the mouths of babes _._ “Gracie, I’m not looking any special way,” he said, avoiding eye contact with Belle. “Are you ready to go?”

“Yah huh. You are too. Your cheeks are all red and you’re smiling funny. It’s kind of like the face Daddy makes when Mommy and him are cuddling and kissing.” Brushing grass off her skirt, Grace looked between Darach and Belle. She nodded as if making a decision, and then released Madam Narwhal into Darach’s care. Grace skipped to Belle’s side and slipped her small hand into hers. “I’m ready now.”

Darach felt bereft at the loss of contact as Belle’s fingers left his elbow, grateful for the arm she still kept linked around his. He tuned out the cacophony of the festival and the chatter between Belle and Grace as he mulled over his niece’s question. What was he thinking about? What made him blush and stammer? More specifically, who? _Belle._ He couldn’t stop thinking of Belle.

Both breathtaking and beguiling, outwardly Belle was nothing short of perfection. Lush chestnut tresses draped her face and fell in curls past her shoulders, outlining soft dusty rose lips, a pert little nose, and bright aquamarine eyes. Her pale porcelain skin complemented the red sundress she wore, the short skirt accenting her long, slender legs. He was not a tall man, but Belle was extremely petite, three inches shorter than he was even in the towering stilettos she wore.

But it wasn’t merely her physical appearance that attracted him to this beauty. It was her voice; the words she spoke; the light that radiated from her spirit, enveloping him in a sense of warmth, nourishment, and comfort. The idea was preposterous considering they had just met, but he felt safe with Belle, at ease in a way he didn’t feel with anyone except Jefferson and his family.

_Belle French_. He’d learned her last name as they’d closed down the booth. Happy in her book-centric existence, Belle worked for Bedelia Bluementhal, a prudish, self-righteous old soul who owned the bookshop Fables and Fairies. (Belle adored her job and had no complaints about her employer, so he saw no reason to defame Bedelia’s character. The witch could do that on her own.)

He raised his face to the stars, the slightly cooled night air drying the light sheen of sweat on his forehead. Again he wondered if his brains had floated away on the breeze. May I help you with the booth? Let’s walk to the beach? Come to my shop to discuss books?

If Jefferson had approached him suggesting such drivel, he’d say it sounded like his friend was scripting a romance novel. But they hadn’t been Jefferson’s ideas. They’d been his—plain old unromantic, pragmatic Darach Gold. Moonlight and atmosphere. Yes, that was the only plausible explanation for his sudden flightiness. The Sky Fire Festival had wormed its way under his skin, making him sentimental and soft.

No. No, he was returning a kindness to a lovely young woman who had been sweet and thoughtful to his Grace. One good turn deserved another. It was as simple as that—no romance, no attraction, no sentimentality under the stars.

From experience he knew that hearts were fickle. Hearts could lie, but brains always told the truth.

He started, feeling Belle squeeze his arm. She was looking at him expectantly. Belle turned to Grace and the two of them dissolved into giggles. He blushed in embarrassment. Was his fly down? Had he stepped in a pile of dog crap?

“I think Grace is right.” Belle patted his arm and laughed again. “You haven’t heard a word we’ve said. Am I such poor company that you lost yourself in the stars?”

“Oh!” Darach said. “I’m sorry, I…”

“I’m only teasing,” Belle said, a coquettish smile warming her face. “While you were dreaming, Grace was telling me about all the wonders in your shop. Antiques, books, a working spinning wheel you actually use? Now I’m curious: besides books and cotton candy ice cream cones, what other passions do you pursue?”

_Was she flirting with him?_

Darach searched her tone and expression for irony. During the year they dated, Milah had made no secret that she found the shop and his interests boring and tiresome. However Belle seemed to be in earnest. Most likely she was natural flirt, but he had the sudden urge to find out if those lips were as plump and petal soft as they looked. _Easy, Darach. You’ve just met this girl._ Clearing his throat, he steered his thoughts and the conversation to a more comfortable topic—his shop.

* * *

Hands linked like a chain, the three (four, if they counted Grace’s stuffed whale) were so engrossed in each other’s company that they were unaware of the crowds swarming around them as they made their way to the beach.

Grace showed Madam Narwhal the sights while Belle and Darach discussed their mutual interests in books. Belle’s appetite for adventure, desire to travel, and awareness of nature complemented Darach’s passion for antiques and Scottish history.

“I’m sure my passions are not interesting to most, but I am quite proud of my shop and my collections. I love antiques, books, wares…really it’s the history behind the items that fascinates me. Some have value to me because they’re the key to unlocking the past. Other items have real value—I have some very rare books that are in a secure display case. Two in particular are Celtic history books and are made of woodcut and dated mid-to-late 17th century. They came into my family’s hands during the Napoleonic Wars and have been handed down for generations,” said Darach.

“Seventeenth century? How incredible,” Belle said. Ok, she was gushing, but so what? She couldn’t believe her good fortune. It had been so long since she’d spoken with someone who shared her interests. Oh, she loved spending time with Mary Margaret, Emma, and Aurora, shopping, sipping cocktails, and swapping silly stories, but Darach was different. He had a thirst for knowledge that rivaled her own and an impressive knowledge of literature and antiquities. Belle was a self-proclaimed nerd and she loved to learn—especially about books.

Besides, since the festival began it didn’t seem as though anyone else had time to talk to her. Here was a man who took the time to share his passions and listen—truly listen—to hers.

“I used to keep the books in my home safe, but I decided it’s selfish not to display them. Historical artifacts should be shared with everyone, no matter who they belong to. Maybe someday I’ll take a trip to Scotland and donate them to the National Museum. It’s a good excuse for me to see the Scottish Highlands,” he said.

“I would love to go,” Belle breathed. God, she’d done it again. Belle bit her lip, wanting to retract those five words. She’d made it sound like she wanted to crawl into his lap on the airplane. “Um, I didn’t mean _with_ you. Or that I thought you were asking me. I mean, I want to. Visit. Scotland that is…” She snapped her jaw shut, mortified.

“Think nothing of it.” He waved a reassuring hand. Belle sought eye contact, wanting to apologize, but he looked toward the water and frowned. “I hope I didn’t bore you too much. I’m afraid I’m not a very interesting man.”

Belle squinted at Darach in confusion. He thought she was bored? On the contrary, she was practically hearing bagpipes in her head. While he was speaking, the almost musical lilt of his baritone brogue had carried Belle to the Scottish Highlands. She imagined trudging across the moors, wind whipping through her hair, like the time traveler Clare in the _Outlander_ series. In her mind’s eye, Darach became a Highland Laird, swathed in a red plaid kilt slung low across his lean hips.

“Bored? Me? Definitely not, I assure you.” Belle tittered nervously, hoping Darach couldn’t guess the direction of her thoughts. “This has been a lovely evening. One thousand times better than I ever dreamed.”

“Why’s that?” Darach asked. He sounded as though he couldn’t possibly believe himself to be responsible for her good time.

“You, of course. You and Grace have made tonight very special.” Belle sighed and tucked an errant curl behind her ear. “It’s my first festival. I’ve been anticipating this for months, but it’s been…lonely. My friends are all busy with their own True Loves. Last night I explored the grounds and stargazed on my own and it was fun, but events like this aren’t the same unless there’s someone to share the experience and make memories with.” Belle kicked at a seashell with her toe. “Gosh, that sounds really pathetic, doesn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he said. Darach smoothed his fingers over Belle’s knuckle, the gesture warming her heart like a soft warm blanket on a cold night. “I have a confession of my own: I’m not really a fan of the festival. I came tonight to spend the evening with Grace. But the rest of the week? I’d rather just stay home.”

“Really? I’d never have guessed you felt that way.” Belle was surprised. “You seem so at ease.”

“I’m a very practiced pretender,” he said. “It’s the pressure of this stupid festival that gets to me. This idea that every year one couple—and only one couple—meets and finds True Love. It’s bollocks,” he growled. “David and Mary Margaret met at a festival. They kissed and a shooting star appeared in the sky. Astrid and Leroy clapped eyes on each other at a festival and there was a blackout. My best friend Jefferson and his wife Alice met nine years ago on the very last night of…you guessed it. The festival. And what happens? A gust of air blew his hat all the way to Alice’s doorstep.”

“That’s all very romantic,” Belle said, picking up on the hurt in Darach’s tone, “but it’s not fair, is it? I mean, it’s wonderful that they all found True Love, but people should be able to have fun without such huge expectations weighing on them. No one wants to feel like a fool for looking for a True Love that never shows up.”

“Finally!” Darach threw his hands up to the sky in praise. “Someone who understands. Thank you! Wait till I introduce Jefferson to a fellow skeptic. Where is he, anyway?” Gold glanced down at his mobile phone then craned his neck, looking for his friend.

Belle was no cynic, but Darach’s frustration had ignited indignance on behalf of her new friend. As he typed out a text message to Grace’s parents, she sat in the sand thinking over what he’d said; his negative attitude toward the Sky Fire Festival was perfectly understandable. He’d obviously been spurned by a lover before—someone he met here?—and had no wish to repeat the experience. Yes, she longed for an excuse to spend more time in Darach Gold’s company, but she didn’t want him to believe her sole purpose in being at the festival was to find True Love. Even if she did find his awkward blushes and fascination with antiques charming and irresistible.

So how could she communicate her interest without pressuring him before he was ready?

Inspiration struck. An idea had taken root Belle’s mind and she raised a brow at Darach in challenge. “So let’s prove them wrong.”

“What do you mean?” He pocketed his cell phone and looked at her quizzically.

“Let’s show Storybrooke that we can have an amazing time every night for the rest of this year’s festival—True Love be damned,” Belle urged, warming to her plan. “Meet me here on the beach every night for the next three evenings. We’ll spend the whole rest of the festival together. Then neither one of us will be lonely nor feel left out because for the next few nights we’ll have each other. We can eat popcorn and play games and watch the stars. We’ll just enjoy the festival with zero expectations.”

“That sounds…pleasant.” Darach’s whiskey brown eyes dancing with merriment.

“You know,” Grace interrupted, tugging on Belle’s skirt, “Lauren in my class likes Jacob. When she sees him on the playground she laughs all funny like she can’t catch her breath the way Miss Belle has been all night. And she gets the tingles. She says it feels like butterflies are jumping around in her tummy. Is that what you guys are getting? Tingles?”

“What?” Gold said, sounding puzzled.

“What?” Belle echoed, pretending to misunderstand. Belle met Grace’s serious grey eyes and shook her head slightly, giving the child a sympathetic smile.

“Never mind.” Grace frowned and plopped down in the sand, cradling Madam Narwhal in her lap.

Gold appeared ignorant of the byplay between the two of them, and Belle sighed in relief. Over the next few days, she’d show Darach that True Love was possible for even the greatest skeptic and loneliest soul, but not tonight.

“Jefferson and Alice will be here in five minutes. What time should I meet you, Belle?” Darach asked.

“How about we meet at stardusk?”

“Pardon?”

“Stardusk. It’s actually a made-up term,” she confided. “It’s in the gloaming—the early evening when the sky is just beginning to darken and the first stars become visible. It’s also the only time of night during a meteor shower that you can see an earthgrazer. In fact, I saw one last night.”

“I like to call them worldgazers,” Grace piped up, punctuating her statement with a yawn. “Daddy says they’re romantic.”

Belle agreed wholeheartedly, but she wasn’t about to say so in front of Darach.

Gold grinned at his niece then heaved a mocking sigh of defeat. “Everyone around here’s a romantic, Belle. We’re severely outnumbered.” He shrugged. “Anyway, I will see you tomorrow night.”

“Tomorrow morning first,” Belle reminded him, hoping she was still invited to browse his antique book selection. “At your shop?”

“Yes, that’s right. It’s Gold Antiquities. On Main Street.”

“I know the place. Though somehow I’ve never been inside,” she said, unable to keep the husky timbre out of her voice. “I’m looking forward to remedying that oversight.”

“Look!” Someone on the beach cried out, pointing heavenward as a cluster of meteors zoomed toward the earth in a symphony of light.

On impulse, Belle reached for Darach’s hand, their fingers interlocking like pieces of a puzzle.

And there it was again, the moment that they touched. That singular sensation from last night. Belle felt as though a live wire was sizzling through every nerve ending. A flash of recognition burned through her body and she shivered.

_Could Darach have been the person she’d collided with last night?_

As he watched the stars, Belle studied the strong cords of his neck, looking for a racing pulse, the bob of his Adam’s Apple, a shift of his eyes—any telltale sign that he’d felt it too. The tingles Grace had been talking about. But in a way she had never experienced.

But Darach gave no indication that he’d experienced anything out of the ordinary.

A heartbeat later he released her hand then waved in a jaunty salute as he guided Grace away from the water. “I’ll see you in the morning then. And later on I will meet you at stardusk.”

“It’s a deal,” Belle whispered after he’d gone, her heart blooming with hope.

Darach Gold was the one. Her True Love. He just didn’t know it yet.

###

_Up Next: Darach continues his silent struggle with growing feelings for Belle. Not wanting to scare him away, Belle tries to pretend she feels only friendship._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These two and their deals. The next three nights of the Sky Fire Festival are going to be interesting!


	4. Donuts and Hamburgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before their date at the festival, Belle and Gold meet at his shop where an encounter with Nottingham threatens to derail their budding relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to everyone who's reading this fluffy story that's taking longer to tell then we expected. We appreciate your encouragement!

**Day 3: 9:00 a.m.**

Working at the shop always soothed Darach. The treasures he restored and collected were warm, talkative companions. Even when customers were scarce and he spent hours in solitude, he never felt lonely. But this morning was different. Today the shop was cold and quiet.

Everything felt that way since he’d parted with Belle at the festival the night before.

Grace, bless her heart, had gone on and on to Alice and Jefferson about her new friend Miss Belle, forcing Darach to deflect questions about why he was returning to the festival for the third night running to meet a girl.

“She’s new in town,” he had said, defensive. He failed to mention that Belle had been a Storybrooke resident for almost a year.

Jefferson had raised an eyebrow into his hairline, his silence saying far more than words.

Last night on the beach, the whisper of Belle’s fingers against his had caused a prickly, electric sensation. The same one he’d felt that first night when he bumped into the stranger in the crowd. In her 8-year-old wisdom, Grace had called the feeling “the tingles.” He was tingling all right—one glance at Belle made his guts pitch and bob like a buoy in a storm.

_Was it possible that she was the person he’d collided with the first night of the festival?_

No. That was absurd. With thousands of people converged on Storybrooke, the possibility was slim at best. Even if it had been her, the feeling was coincidental. He didn’t believe in fate. Why should he? Fate was unkind—it dangled desire in front of your eyes and then if you dared to reach for what you wanted, it was snatched away.

Yet deep down, he was nurturing that wretched seed of hope.

Throwing open the door of the shop to welcome customers, he groaned. He was out of his depth with Belle French. Perhaps he shouldn’t have agreed to her scheme, but he wanted to see her, to spend time with her. Besides, it was the right thing to do. Like him, she was lonely for companionship. She didn’t want to spend the next three days of the festival alone. The least he could do was humor her. And if he soaked up some of her light and life while he did? That was just a bonus.

Yes, he would meet with her this morning then accompany her to the festival tonight. Together, they would defy convention. Who needed True Love? They would just be two people having fun. Platonic fun. Maybe he could count her as a friend at some point.

 _Friend._ The word left a sour taste in Darach’s mouth.

Glancing at one of the synchronized clocks on the wall, he settled down to work until Belle arrived. He opened his safe and took out a ledger. He was making a sizable donation via a private investment account to keep the failing local library open—a secret no one but Jefferson knew. Anonymous giving allowed him to support the community without drawing unwanted attention.

After he finished his proposal and wrote a check, Darach opened the display case containing the 17th century Celtic books, laying them on the counter. He smiled, thinking of Belle’s enthusiasm over his books and Scotland.

Scotland. Vivid memories of last night’s dream assailed his senses—he’d been strolling through Inverness with Belle. She’d been stunning and vivacious in a sheer top with a rust colored skirt as they tasted the wonders of the Capital of the Highlands. With her by his side, he’d strutted like a peacock, feeling like the luckiest bastard in the world.

As the clocks struck ten, the door jingled and Belle sashayed into the shop. She was dressed almost exactly as she’d been in his dream. Red skirt. Sheer white blouse. Hair pulled back with tendrils escaping around her face, accenting the deep cobalt of her eyes. Darach staggered against the display case, his tongue thick in his mouth. _What was happening?_

Stumbling, he came around the counter to greet her. “Belle, um. Let me help you with that.” Darach grabbed the bag and the two coffees she held with shaking hands, nearly spilling one.

“Good morning, Darach. Is everything all right?” Belle’s beam faded a bit, and her brow wrinkled in concern.

Darach ushered Belle to the counter, feeling like a fool. “Good morning. Yes. No. I-I’m fine. I’m just…” _Wondering how you can be wearing the same outfit I dreamed of you in!_

“Distracted?” Belle supplied, giving his arm a squeeze. “I didn’t know if you drank coffee or how you take it. But based on your ice cream choices you seem to have a sweet tooth.” She winked. “I brought cream and extra sugar.” Pulling pastries from the bakery bag she’d brought, she offered him one. “I also hope you like Boston crème donuts.”

Darach relaxed, Belle’s touch comforting him. “You seem to have guessed my weakness. Boston crème is my favorite. I don’t indulge often, but every so often I cheat a little.”

Belle leaned closer, her eyes dancing with mischief. “What other weaknesses do you have, Mr. Gold?”

There was teasing in her tone and a sultry warmth. Was she flirting again? Darach felt a spark of electricity reverberate between them. Being with Belle was certainly exciting.

“Miss French, a man doesn’t just blurt out all his secrets to a woman.” He shook the bag of pastries. “No matter how successful her bribes are.” Darach took a big bite of donut, grinning as he chewed. “However, I won’t discourage you from trying.”

“I do love a challenge, she said, nibbling on an apple fritter. “And I intend to learn your secrets. All of them.”

Darach ducked his head, studying the steam rising from the top of his coffee cup. “There’s nothing to tell, really.”

Belle glanced down at the open ledger on the counter. “Oh, really? What’s this?” Her dimples appeared as she scanned the pages. “Is this one of your secrets? Library funding and…”

Darach snapped the ledger shut. “No secrets there. Nothing more than the bland required reading of a town councilman.”

Belle pursed her lips and her eyes clouded with shame. “I’m sorry. That was rude of me.”

“Not at all,” he said. Anxious to change the subject, he pushed the Celtic tomes toward Belle. “Here are the books I was telling you about.”

Belle lifted one reverently, her face alight with pleasure as she turned the woodcut pages. “These are incredible! I can see why you treasure them. Have you thought anymore about gifting them to a museum?”

Turning to the wall safe, he stored the ledger and spun the dial. “More recently than you realize,” he mumbled, thinking again of last night’s dream.

“What?”  
  
“A little bit,” he said.

The bell above the door rang again, announcing another visitor. It was Keith Nottingham. Darach suppressed a shudder. The car mechanic was not his favorite person, but a customer was a customer. “How can I help you?”

Keith scanned the shop, a scowl on his face. His eyes landed on Belle and lingered. Darach stiffened. “See something you like?” he asked, gritting his teeth.

“Yeah.” He shifted his dark, beady eyes to Gold. “Uh, I want a flask. Maybe something old? You have old stuff here, right?” Keith licked his lips as he watched Belle. Darach clenched his fist hard around the head of his cane.

“Let me search the inventory.” Darach kept most of the disgust from his voice as he headed to the back. Looking through the curtain separating the front of the shop from his office and storeroom, he watched Keith move toward Belle the moment he disappeared.

“Greetings, my lady. Keith Nottingham, at your service.” The bounder bent low over Belle’s hand. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a woman as beautiful as you. The stars in the sky are nothing compared to the ones in your eyes.”

Darach rolled his eyes, but Belle looked up from her book and laughed. “I’m Belle French,” Darach heard her say.

Keith brushed his lips across her hand. “A lovely name for a lovely woman. Are you new in town?”

Darach bristled as he walked back to the storeroom. _Was Belle taken in by such insincere drivel?_ Scanning the shelves for flasks, Darach strained to hear their conversation. He heard the drone of voices but he couldn’t make out their words.

When he returned, antique flask in hand, Belle’s cheeks were apple red and she’d settled into a corner across the room to read. She met his eyes, but her smile was strained. _Is she disappointed that I interrupted their flirtation?_ Darach checked his mounting frustration; Belle wasn’t his. As soon as he finished this sale, he’d release her from the obligation to see him tonight.

It was a good thing he’d decided to be just friends with Belle. _It’s Milah the Sequel. I’d have had my heart broken eventually._

“Is this what you’re looking for?” Darach said to Keith, who was now glowering at him. He wanted to get rid of this jerk posthaste. If he wanted to make eyes at Belle, he could do so in someone else’s shop.

At last Keith left, flask in hand, and Darach returned to Belle. Her expression was unreadable, but if he had to guess, she was thinking up excuses not to meet up with him. Darach was going to make it easy.

“Did you know that man?” she asked, lifting her chin toward the door.

“Nottingham? Not well. He seems rather full of himself, but if you’re into that type,” he snapped. Belle gave him a strange look. Humiliated by his outburst, he pretended intense interest in her book selections for the festival. “Those the ones?”

Belle nodded. “I hope it’s all right. I don’t want to take advantage of your generosity.”

Darach gave a detached shrug. “I’ll box them up and carry them to your car.”

“I wasn’t planning to leave yet. I was hoping…I mean if you’re not too busy?” She sank her teeth into her lower lip. “Is everything ok?”

Darach’s heart softened at her bewildered expression. She had no idea why he was upset, and taking his disappointment out on her was wrong. “Everything is fine. I’m just very busy today.”

“If I leave you alone to work now, will you be ready to play crossbow shoot and ring the bell later?” she asked. “And eat kettle corn? I need to try the kettle corn.”

“You still want to meet at the festival?” Darach’s annoyance vanished.

“Of course! I had a lovely time last night. Besides, we pledged to show Storybrooke that we can have great time without the pressure of True Love, remember?”

“I remember.” Darach walked Belle to her car and deposited the books in the trunk of her Kia, wrestling with whether to call off their date. “I thought perhaps you had changed your mind?”

“No way,” she said. Arching onto her toes, she brushed a kiss across his cheek.

Her lips were soft and warm against his stubble, and Darach bit back a groan at the innocent touch. He moved to return the gesture, but the image of Keith in the corner of his eye distracted him. The idiot was propped up against the building next door, already guzzling out of his new flask. At 11 a.m.

Darach pulled back and cleared his throat. “Tonight at Stardusk then.”

“At Stardusk,” she echoed.

* * *

Belle stood by her car, admiring the view as Darach reentered the shop. That man cut a fine figure in a suit. He’d looked so adorable, blushing and stammering over the donuts and coffee she’d brought. Screw the pastries—she’d wanted to grab him by the lapels and kiss him until they were both breathless. Until that character Nottingham came in. His visit to the shop had made Darach standoffish and stilted. She’d believed t they’d been having a good time, then he was ushering her out his door like he couldn’t wait to be rid of her.

 _Ugh!_ Belle wiped the hand Nottingham had slobbered on against her skirt. The man had been boorish and forward. He’d practically pinned her against the display counter, his whiskey-laced breath hot and foul on her face. Belle sent up a prayer of thanksgiving that Darach had returned from the storeroom when he did, causing Nottingham to spring back.

Unless…could Darach think she was interested in that creep? _Yuck._ Though it would certainly explain his abrupt change in mood. Belle debated about going back into the shop to set him straight. Short of jumping into his arms, she’d already done every ladylike thing she could think of to show him she had eyes for one man only. But he wasn’t getting the hint. Belle glanced at her watch; she was already late for work. Talking to Darach would have to wait until Stardusk. Tonight she would tell him the truth: that Belle French was a fool for True Love and she’d found hers in Darach Gold.

Her phone buzzed, alerting her to a text. It was Emma. She and Ariel wanted to stargaze with her over cocktails. Smiling as she typed, Belle politely declined the invitation. Tonight she had plans with someone very special.

 

**Night 3 – 7:45 p.m.**

“Hey.”

“Hey!” Belle said, ducking out the book stall. “Thanks for meeting me here. We’ve already sold three of the volumes you gave me! If this keeps up, both the bookstore and you are going to have a tidy profit.”

“That’s great,” Darach said.

But from the look on his face it didn’t seem great at all. Her heart was slamming against her ribcage at the sight of him, but his monosyllabic grunts were less than enthusiastic. This morning’s strained conversation came flooding back, reminding her that Darach was skittish and uncertain. She may be aware of her intentions toward him, but he was not.

It was time to convince him that she was exactly where she longed to be. To confess that she was in love with him. And she would. Soon.

Wrapping her arms around his waist, she enveloped him in a tight embrace and kissed his cheek.

“What was that for?” he asked, pupils wide.

“I needed a hug,” she said, letting her fingers linger on his chest. “You looked like you could use one, too. You know what else we could use?”

“What’s that?”

“Food. I’m starving! Do you like hamburgers?”

He nodded, his face splitting with a huge grin. It was the first genuine smile she’d seen from him all day.

A few minutes later they were laughing and talking over massive hamburgers thick with cheese and bacon and frosty cups filled with strong, sweet iced tea. The awkwardness of their morning meetup had drifted away on the evening breeze.

“Did you know,” Belle said, as they strolled through the festival munching on burgers and fries, “that the Romans god Priapus protected virility as well as livestock, orchards, farmland, and gardens?”

“I have heard that,” Darach said. He took a large bite of his hamburger and chased it with a gulp of iced tea.

“So the Perseids meteor shower is actually Priapus ejaculating all over the land to fertilize the fields!” She popped a French fry into her mouth with a saucy smile.

Darach blew a mouthful of iced tea on the ground, coughing and sputtering. Several people turned to see if he was all right, and Belle pounded him on the back, giggling.

“I think you made that up,” he wheezed.

“I assure you I did not. Why? Did I make you nervous, Mr. Gold?” she asked, rubbing his back in slow circles. She was sorry for making him choke, but she was not at all sorry for an excuse to touch him.

“Ha!” he said, coughing as he blotted iced tea off his light blue shirt.

“Hang on a second.” Belle swiped a few napkins from the candy apple vendor and turned back to Darach.

“Good evening, Belle.” Keith Nottingham loomed large, blocking her path.

“Mr. Nottingham.” She gave a curt nod, averting her eyes. She had no wish to give a repeat performance of this morning.

“Honey, I thought we were gonna get to know each other better.” He drifted nearer, putting a meaty hand on her waist. She slapped it away. “Aww, baby, don’t be like that.”

Darach materialized at her side, giving Nottingham a steely glare. Belle could have wept with relief. Straightening in pride, she tucked herself against Darach and slipped her hand into his.

Befuddled, Nottingham looked down at their joined hands. “What, you and Gold?” His harsh laugh sounded like an off key chord, assaulting her ears. “Did you bring him here in a wheelchair? He’s old enough to be your father!”

Next to her, she felt Darach go rigid and loosen his grip on her hand.

 _That was it._  
  
Spinning to face Darach, Belle framed his face, stroking his cheeks. “I like experienced men,” she purred. She slammed her lips against his, driving her tongue into his mouth in a feverish kiss that made her moan aloud. He tasted better than she’d imagined, the salty tang of hamburger and the sweetness of ketchup mixed with an essence that was uniquely Darach. She tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck, feeling its softness and grazing his scalp with her fingernails. Another insistent pull brought him flush against her as she ravaged his warm mouth. She gloried in his labored breathing and the welcoming heat of his tongue as it stroked hers.

Breathing harshly, she pulled away, her arms still wound about his neck, and smiled into his eyes. He smiled back and brushed his lips against hers again, once, twice, three times, his hands caressing her back.

Keith stood with arms akimbo and mouth agape, looking like he was auditioning for the role of park statue.

“Oh,” she said, making her tone as nonchalant as possible, “are you still here?”

With a final glare, she flounced away, dragging Darach with her. “Ferris wheel?” she asked, making an automatic beeline for the big wheel.

“Sure,” he said, after a half heartbeat of hesitation.

Belle pulled him into a cabin, the machine beginning to whirl as they ascended into the evening sky. Her stomach began to clench, the massive hamburger she had eaten threatening to come back up. What had she been thinking? She hadn’t been thinking at all. Her head was muddled from that incredible kiss and she’d wanted to get them far away from that rotter Nottingham as fast as possible.

They were zooming higher now, teetering at the very apex of the wheel, when the contraption stopped.

“Sit tight folks,” the ride operator called over a microphone. “Technical difficulties.”

“We’re stuck?” Belle asked, alarmed. She seized Darach’s arm, gripping it like a vice.

“Are you ok?” he asked, an edge of panic in his voice. “Belle? I can’t feel my fingers.”

She glanced over the side of the cabin and whimpered, dizzy. Mercy, it was a long way down. “Would now be a bad time to mention that I’m afraid of heights?”

###

Up Next: Does what happens on top of the Ferris wheel stay on top of the Ferris wheel?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We wonder if Darach's going to tell Belle that he's afraid of heights, too.


	5. Bananas are Best

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Atop the Ferris wheel, Darach comforts Belle in an unusual way. Later, Jefferson confronts Belle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to all who continue to support this fluffy tale! So much fun writing this with the awesome TrueRumbelle and we love seeing all your reactions!!! <3

Trembling, Belle peered over the side of the cabin, her hold on Darach’s arm anchoring her. The giant wheel stayed at a standstill, their car suspended at the very top. Oh, how she loathed heights! The metallic taste of fear coated her mouth, and her legs wobbled like grape jelly. Another wave of nausea washed over her. She imagined herself toppling over the edge of the little bucket and freefalling to the asphalt below. An irrational thought, yes, but there was nothing rational about fears.

“Don’t look down again, sweetheart,” Darach said, easing her back from the edge of the car.

“But…” Her protest was a breathless squeak. The urge to stare at the pavement below overwhelmed her, a bizarre self-torture that she couldn’t control. Belle’s lungs burned for oxygen, the gulps of air she swallowed never quite enough.

Grateful for Darach’s calming presence, she obeyed and slid closer, hiding her face against his chest. His large, warm hands began to rub comforting circles on her back, and he kissed her hair when she tucked her head under his chin. He smelled of cedar, mint, and spun sugar. She turned her face against his throat and grazed it with her lips.

He shifted in the seat, causing the little cabin to sway. Belle wound her arms around his waist. “Belle, concentrate on my voice and take deep, slow breaths. They’ll have this contraption working in no time and we’ll be on the ground,” Darach said. With her head buried she couldn’t see his face, but his tone was strained. “Yes, I see Leroy at the control box now.”

Belle focused on breathing deeply and evenly as Darach spoke, calming her with his deep, melodic brogue. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sound of his voice.

“I want to thank you, Belle, for coming to my defense tonight. Kissing me the way you did in front of Nottingham? You are a brave young woman. For as old as I am—old enough to be your father, did he say?— I’m not experienced with women.”

The car pitched again, and she pressed closer, his words buzzing in her ears. What was he talking about? Brave? It hadn’t been bravery—she’d kissed him because she wanted to. It was all she’d wanted from the moment she’d clapped eyes on him. She was 29 and an adult, and she didn’t care if Darach was 20 or 60. She opened her mouth to tell him so. But the reassurances on the tip of her tongue melted away, like the cotton candy they’d shared earlier. At this dizzying height, she couldn’t bridge the gap between thoughts and words.

“What calms you when you’re frightened?” he asked softly. “Does music help?”

“My mother used to sing to me when I was little,” she grated out.

“I could sing you a Scottish lullaby, if you’d like?” Immediately he cleared his throat and began to sing:

“Banana, banana, bananas are the best  
A nice squishy middle in a big yella vest…  
Fifty million monkeys can't be wrong—banana!  
From totie wans tae Old King Kong—banana!  
They all love to sing this song—banana!  
Can ah have a ba-na-na?'  
It's perfect with ice cream—banana!  
It's a banana dream…”

As Darach sang—very badly and very off key—the Ferris wheel lurched into action. Belle breathed an audible sigh of relief. Though his singing was terrible, she’d never felt so safe and cherished. The amusing children’s song was the perfect bit of ridiculousness to distract her. She giggled, imagining Darach cradling a baby monkey and feeding it a banana.

When their car at last landed on the platform Belle, was never so grateful to be on solid ground. “Thank you,” she said, accepting his offered hand as she disembarked from the ride. Rather than letting go, she brought his hand to her mouth, kissing his knuckles.

“You’re welcome,” he said, but he was looking over her head, his mouth drawn into a thin, hard line.

* * *

Incoming.

Grace and Jefferson approached the Ferris wheel, both wearing wide smiles. Gold wondered if he and Belle could duck out of sight before the barbs started flying, but father and daughter were headed straight for them. Watching Grace drag her father through the crowd would have been enjoyable, but anticipating the upcoming embarrassment spoiled his fun.

Grace bounded into Belle’s arms, hugging her fiercely. “Papa, this is Miss Belle. She’s the one who gave me _The Wind in the Willows.”_

“Hello, Belle. You’re causing quite a stir at the festival this year. Grace was hoping she’d find you. I’m Jefferson, by the way.” He bowed, and Darach didn’t miss the irony in the introduction. He sent Jefferson a pleading look, which his friend promptly ignored. “I must say, it’s amazing you were able to convince Darach here to go on the Ferris wheel. That’s one ride even Grace can’t get him on. You know—fear of heights and all.” Jefferson grinned and nodded in his direction. “Good to see you, old man.”

Gold winced; the last thing Belle needed was another reminder of their age difference. But what did it matter? They were only friends.

“Darach, you’re afraid of heights, too?” Belle asked, threading her fingers through his. “I never would have guessed,” she said, looking at Grace and Jefferson. “He was so worried about me that he didn’t let on for a moment. He even sang to me.” She laughed. “It was wonderful.”

Darach sent Jefferson a triumphant glare.

But Belle wasn’t finished. “You’re the most amazing man I’ve ever known.” Beaming, she leaned in to kiss the corner of his mouth. Darach blushed, hardly deserving of her affection or her lavish praise.

Grace hooted. “You guys kissed! Uncle Darach, do you have the tingles again?”

Tingles couldn’t begin to describe the gamut of emotions this woman inspired. For the second time this evening Belle was coming to his defense. Suddenly he felt like a cad, recalling that he’d taken the coward’s way out, thanking her for kissing him when she was incoherent with fear on the Ferris wheel. He’d been nervous himself, and searching for words. Of course she’d kissed him out of pity, but he couldn’t bear for her to say so.

“Well?” Grace looked from one adult’s face to another. “Do you?”

Jefferson smothered a cough and handled Grace a crisp $20 bill. “Grace, take Uncle Darach to the lemonade stand. Buy us all some lemonade, please. Belle and I will wait here. Quickly, now! I don’t want to lose our spot in line.”

Darach opened his mouth to protest, but before he could warn Belle, Grace’s small hand enveloped his and she hauled him down the path. “Uncle Darach, I want the big strawberry lemonade in the alien cup. Oh, and before I forget, Madam Narwhal says hi.”

He turned back and threw Belle a hopeless look. He hoped she would forgive him later for whatever Jefferson was about to say.

* * *

Jefferson appraised Belle as she watched Darach and Grace disappear around the bend.

“You have an adorable daughter,” she said. “Grace is very devoted to Darach, isn’t she?”

“Thank you. Yes, she loves him very much. My wife Alice and I do, too.” Unbalanced by Belle’s cheerful demeanor, Jefferson frowned. Grace was enamored with Belle and Darach was obviously smitten. But as much as he teased Darach, he loved him deeply and he wasn’t going to let this pretty young thing saunter into his life and toy with his emotions.

“There is so much to love about Darach,” she agreed, her blue eyes shining.

He smiled coldly. “So you spend some time with him; flatter him a little. Darach Gold is a wealthy man, Miss French. What are you really after?”

The light in her eyes roared into a blaze. “Are you insinuating that I want Darach for his money? For all I care, he could be Bill Gates or a pauper who can’t keep food on the table. I know what’s in his heart.”

“What’s in his heart? You don’t even know him. You’ve been friends for what, 36 hours? That’s not enough to build a life on.”

“Now you sound like the cynic, sir.” A coy smile played at the corners of her mouth.

Jefferson glanced around, not wanting to be overheard. “Darach’s the best man I know. And he’s been hurt before. So much so that he doesn’t believe any woman could ever care for him. I don’t want to see him go through that pain again. I won’t allow it.”

“Neither will I,” she said, coming toe-to-toe with him.

He was nearly a foot and a half taller than she, but she wasn’t cowed. That was saying something. He softened his tone. “What exactly are your intentions toward my best friend?”

“My intentions? To marry him and spend the rest of my life making him happy, if he’ll have me.”

Jefferson’s jaw dropped. That had been the last declaration he had expected.

Belle sat down on a bench, patting the spot beside her. Woodenly, he sat, trying to process her words.

“I don’t expect you to understand, Jefferson. I’m not even sure I understand myself why Fate has blessed me with the chance to know Darach. All I know is that I love him. I absolutely love him. I knew it the night we met. The first evening of the festival, I bumped into a stranger in the crowd. I couldn’t see his face, but it was like a bolt of lightning went through me. Then I saw the stargazer, a good omen, right?”

Captivated, Jefferson nodded, encouraging her to continue. He knew a fellow romantic when he met one.

“Then last night, I met Darach and Grace and it happened again. And I’ve been acting like an absolute fool. I know how he feels about true love and the magic of the festival. So I told him I agreed.” She looked down and twisted her hands in her lap.

“But you don’t,” he said.

“Not really, no. I wanted to be with him without scaring him away. So I told him we should just spend time together—as friends—so we wouldn’t be lonely or feel silly while everyone else runs around with their True Love. But I was hoping that over these few days if he got to know me, well, maybe he could love me too?

“I know he’s been hurt; there’s betrayal in his eyes every time he looks at me. Whoever she was, she’s a fool. Half of me wants to break her neck, and half of me wants to hug her. If she hadn’t been such an idiot, I’d be missing my chance at True Love with the most wonderful man ever.”

“I see.” Jefferson rubbed a hand over his face. “And you’re sure Darach doesn’t know how you feel?”

Belle released a small sob and dashed away the tears in her eyes. “Either he doesn’t know or he’s totally disinterested. I kissed him when Keith Nottingham was bothering us and he thought I was doing him a favor.”

“Oh, trust me—he’s interested.” Jefferson patted her hand in reassurance and gave her a crumpled napkin. “Don’t cry. I know that hangdog expression on his face. As we speak, he’s getting himself all worked up about why nothing you do or say means anything romantic and how glad he is that you’re ‘just friends.’”

That earned him a small, wet laugh and she dabbed at her eyes again. “It’s True Love. I have never been so certain in all my life. I just need to wait till he’s ready, then I’ll tell him.”

He grinned. “I knew it. I knew the moment I saw the stargazer that something special was going to happen. I won’t say a word.” Overcome with joy for his best friend, he reached out to give Belle a quick hug. He spied Darach and Grace over her shoulder and pulled back. “Here they are. Act natural.”

“Good, you’re back!” Jefferson feigned surprise. “I was getting really thirsty.”

Pouting, Grace handed him a lemonade and put her little hands on her hips. “Daddy, I thought you were waiting in line for our ride?”

“Sorry, Gracie. Miss Belle and I were discussing the origins of the Perseids legend,” he lied. “Let’s get back in line. Belle, it was a pleasure. Darach, old man, I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Guess my cell phone will be off tomorrow.” Darach waved them away with a smirk, and by unspoken agreement, he and Belle headed to the beach.

* * *

Near the shore, she pulled him down to sit next to a gnarled oak tree. Belle chattered gaily, pointing at the stars, and reclining against the tree’s massive trunk. Darach sat with his back ramrod straight, his insecurities making it impossible to relax. His lovely companion really was too young for him. Even Jefferson called him an old man in front of Belle…twice!

Yet a thousand horses couldn’t have dragged him away. She had bewitched him. That was the only explanation for his foolishness.

“Isn’t this tree gorgeous?” she said, tilting her head back to admire it. “It has so much character and charisma. Just like you. Darach even means oak. I looked it up.” She giggled, sounding pleased with her discovery.

 _And it’s old, too. Just like me._ He smiled feebly.

Sticking the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she knelt in front of him and started unlacing his shoes, easing them off his feet. Next, she whipped off his socks, balling them up and putting them inside his discarded wingtips. “Red stripes, Darach? I knew you had a playful side.”

“Belle?” He stared down at his bare toes. “What are you doing?”

“Shhhhh. Do you hear that?” She toed off her own ankle breakers, tossing them next to his shoes.

“Hear what?”

“The music,” she said mysteriously, rising to her feet and drawing him up with her.

“I don’t hear anything but people,” he said.

“Listen closely. The stars are singing a melody.”

“All right,” he said, playing her game. “I hear it now.” He didn’t, but he couldn’t bear to disappoint her.

“Wonderful!” she praised, putting her left hand on his shoulder. “Then dance with me.”

“Dance?” he croaked. “Here?” Families and couples surrounded them. Making a spectacle of himself was not his idea of a pleasant pastime.

“Yes, here. Or I’ll make you sing ‘Bananas are Best’ in front of all these people.” Stricken, he started to object, but the appearance of her dimples told him she was teasing. Humming softly, she stepped into his arms. Digging their toes into the sand, they swayed back and forth, finding an easy rhythm.

“Ok?” he asked, trying not to step on her.

“Mmmmm. Much better than the Ferris wheel.” Belle’s head drifted to his shoulder and he closed his eyes, savoring the bliss of her body against his, every curve tucked into every hollow. Like puzzle pieces, it seemed they were made to fit together. Nothing had ever felt so right.

After a while she raised her head to look at him. “So you think I’m brave. For kissing you?”

Shamefaced, he nodded at the gentle scolding in her voice. He’d been wondering if she would remember that conversation.

“Darach, I kissed you because I wanted to.” She caressed his jawline with her thumbs as they danced. “I like you. Very much. If I had it to do over again, I would. _All of it_ ,” she said. “Oh, and I’m 29. Not a child.”

“I like you too, Belle,” he managed, taken aback by the heat in her eyes. No woman had ever looked at him this way. “I’m 45,” he admitted, looking anxiously at her face for a reaction.

“That’s not old. Only 16 years between us,” she said. A curl fell over her eyes and he smoothed it back with trembling fingers.

“Only 16,” he repeated, dumbstruck.

“Darach? I know we said we would just be—”

“Belle! Hey!” Emma Swan slurred, cutting Belle off. “We missed you for cocktails tonight. Want some of mine?” She stumbled a bit as she offered Belle her drink. Darach grabbed Emma’s elbow to steady her.

“Oh! Mr. Gold!” Mary Margaret Nolan smacked her friend’s arm, spilling the proffered drink all over the sand. “We’re interrupting something, Emma. Aren’t we? Belle, we’re so sorry.”

Apparently they weren’t sorry enough to leave. Two pairs of eyes—one blue and one brown—stared at him with unconcealed interest. Now he knew how a goldfish felt.

Belle’s friends were clearly enjoying the festivities and libations. Darach hid a resigned sigh; whatever Belle had been about to say would need to wait. Emma and Mary Margaret were poised to tear off their clothing and jump into the water, and he didn’t fancy rescuing them from drowning.

“It’s fine, Mary Margaret. You two should stay with us. We can walk with you on the beach and wait for David,” Belle said, giving him an apologetic smile.

Darach’s disappointment mixed with relief. If those two hadn’t happened along…well, it was better not to know what Belle had planned to say. Already he was losing his grip on reality. As long as he didn’t confront the truth, he could go on pretending. Nurturing that wretched seed of hope.

They guided Emma and Mary Margaret to a small tide pool where they distracted them with dangling their feet in the water. At long last, David collected his wayward charges and drove them both home.

“Thank you for all your help,” Belle said after they’d gone. “I’m sorry about my friends. They were very drunk. Still, it was entertaining to hear them try to guess your first name.” She giggled.

“Indeed.” Darach laughed. “Barbara was my favorite.”

“Mine too! Same time tomorrow?”

Darach pulled his shoes back on and handed Belle her heels. “Well, I promised Mayor Mills that I would do some work on the town booth. It’s a special attraction.” Belle’s face flashed with disappointment. Amazed that she still wanted to see him, he quickly added, “I mean, it shouldn’t take me long. When I’m finished, I’ll meet you here at the tree, ok?”

“See you soon.” She brushed his mouth with hers and padded away, carrying her shoes.

Leaning against the tree, he sank down again. The crowds had dispersed and the beach was nearly deserted. He’d just rest here a moment before going home. Easing his bad leg in front of him he gazed at the midnight sky, thinking of Belle. A shooting star whizzed by and for the first time in 20 years, he wished on one.

###

Up Next: Helping Regina is more than Darach bargains for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mary Margaret and Emma certainly know how to spoil a moment!


End file.
